Simulacrum of Humanity
by Ayla Pascal
Summary: Fenrir has embraced his wolf. He knows this is the only way to survive.


There were celebrations that night. The old man was finally dead. Killed not by old age. Not by accident. But by one of their own.

Snape was lauded as a hero.

Fenrir remembers shaking the man's hand even though he was a half-blood and thus _tainted_. "Good for you, Snape," he had growled. The other man simply nodded sharply and turned away. 

Of course, now he knows why.

Snape must have been torn that night. Torn between the feeling of appreciation and his promises to the old man, now dead by his own hand.

The _traitor_.

Fenrir clenches his teeth.

He would make Snape pay.

-

"Help me," Bella says, her eyes over-bright and glittering with the insanity of Azkaban. "Help me get rid of that half-blood traitor."

Fenrir takes a step closer and is pleased to see her back away. There is nothing like scaring the insane. It gives him such pleasure. "On one condition," he says, his voice a low growl.

"Anything." 

-

Fenrir hates werewolves like Remus. The ones who put on shabby robes and pretend to be human. The ones who deny the wolf inside them until they are the perfect simulacrum of humanity. 

But the point, Fenrir knows, is that they are not human. And never will be.

Fenrir has _embraced_ his wolf. He knows this is the only way to survive.

-

They find Snape huddled, curled up, in a desolate area of Muggle London. The man is wearing Muggle clothes, and his normally greasy hair is hanging in rat's tails around his face. Fenrir thinks this is fitting of the half-blood he is.

"Get up, traitor," Bella spits out. 

Snape looks up and his eyes are blank. "What took you so long?" he says hollowly. "I would have thought that you would have caught up to me long ago?"

Bella opens her mouth but Fenrir silences her with a wave of his hand. "Tell me, Snape," he says. "How would you like me to tear your throat out while you are still breathing." He sees Bella wrinkle her nose in disgust but Snape's face remains impassive.

"Does it matter?" 

With those words, Fenrir realises that Snape knows that he has a death sentence on his head. After all, one does not simply betray the Dark Lord and expect to die a natural death.

-

They leave Snape's body torn and bloody in a Muggle alleyway. Fenrir thinks briefly of the Muggles and what they would think but they no longer matter.

The Dark Lord has promised to eradicate the Muggle plague within five years anyway.

They've won. This is simply cleanup.

-

Bella turns to him and gives a short bow. "Thank you for your help," she says tightly and turns to go but Fenrir grasps her arm. He tightens his grip and watches as his long yellowed claws dig in. She winces.

"Have you, perhaps, forgotten our deal?" he asks.

She glares at him. "I have not forgotten. But I guarantee, the Dark Lord would be unhappy about this."

Fenrir bares his teeth at her and is amused when she flinches. As fearsome as she is when enraged against a human, she is still no match for a werewolf. "Don't be ridiculous. You know our Lord couldn't stand to lose werewolf support. Not at this critical time with the rebels still hiding in the Muggle world."

From the expression on her face, Fenrir realises that she knows this.

-

Fenrir stops himself from crushing her into the wall just in time. It's been so long since he's had a woman under him and he doesn't think that the Dark Lord would be pleased if she returned to him a bloody pulp. He looks down and sees the look of revulsion on her face.

"Don't be afraid to enjoy it," he says. "I know about Remus."

She stiffens. "What about him?"

"You have a taste for werewolves, my dear," Fenrir tells her as he opens her robes. "But Lupin, he's not a true wolf. He'll never be one. We are much, much, much better."

Her robes fall to the ground. Like most pureblood witches, Bella never wears anything under her robes. Her nipples stiffen under his gaze.

"This is rape, you know," she tells him as he pushes her onto the cold stone floor. She gasps as he pins her down using strong arms.

Fenrir shrugs and uses one hand to open her legs wide apart. "Ah, but the benefits of not being human," he tells her. "We don't worry about such little things." He thrusts inside her and grunts. "We don't worry because," thrust, thrust, "we're just animals. Classified by your Ministry as animals."

-

Next meeting, Bella refuses to look him in the eye as they report that they have eliminated the traitor Snape.

"I am pleased," the Dark Lord tells them. "You two have managed to rid us of our most insidious enemy."

Fenrir inclines his head. "I was proud to be in the service of my Lord."

And he realises the more he says this, the truer it becomes. With every meeting, his knee bends easier. He only joined the Dark Lord to eat the flesh of enemies and friends alike with impunity. Only now is he finally beginning to believe in the cause.

He glances at Bella by his side, and wonders how much of this she knows.

"You work well together," the Dark Lord says. "You are assigned to eradicate the rest of the pathetic Order that still stands in my way."

"Yes, my Lord."

Is it just Fenrir's imagination or is there a tremble in her voice?

-

"There will be no more deals," Bella tells him, with frost in her voice. "No more conditions. We work together on the Dark Lord's orders and no more."

Fenrir shrugs. He knows that it is only time before she relents. He knows of her affair with Remus all those years ago. He knows of her lust (and hatred) for werewolf flesh. And he knows that he is more werewolf than Remus would ever be.

"Very well," he says.


End file.
